


Home Again

by ifishouldvanish



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Childhood Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Rumbelle Showdown, Rumbelle Showdown 2018, because it's not a rumbelle fic if malcolm isn't trash, mildly angsty?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-09 00:19:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14705564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifishouldvanish/pseuds/ifishouldvanish
Summary: Belle left Storybrooke to travel the world- leaving her childhood friend, Adam Gold, behind. Years later, she returns to her hometown to see him again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work was previously posted as part of the 2018 Rumbelle Showdown event, under the pseudonym _Your Favorite Cryptid._
> 
> To everyone who voted for my work- thank you so much! It was my first time participating, and I was thrilled to make it as far as the third round! <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Round 1 Prompts:** chariot; snowy day; childhood friends become lovers

It was as good a time to come home as any.

Tired. Bored. Enlightened. Fulfilled. Ready to settle down.

All fleeting justifications she’d tried on only to take off a month, a week, a day– hours later, in favor of slipping into the only thing that truly fit: She missed him.

A soft blanket of snow covered the small town of Storybrooke, and for the first time in a long time, it actually felt like home. The glowing streetlamps all donned their flags and garlands, wishing her a happy holiday as she drove up Main Street in her rental car. The Winter Festival would be in full swing tomorrow afternoon, and Belle started to question her timing again.

Years ago, she and Adam would spend each night of the festival holed up in the library– away from the noisy and drunken celebration happening in the streets outside. Away from his thoroughly imbibed father.

They’d talk about the future. Their hopes and dreams.

Her own had been lofty. Traveling the world. Studying at prestigious universities. Experiencing everything life had to offer. And she had done those things. Or most of them, at least. But Adam’s were never quite so simple. For his father to stop drinking. For his mother to get off the painkillers. For the comfort of knowing what to expect of both of them when he came home each night.

She’d offered to take him with her.

“I can’t.” he’d said, and she hadn’t pushed, and she regret it every day.

She held her breath as she drove by his father’s storefront, furrowing her brows when she noticed it had changed.

What if he was gone?

Moved to another town to get away?

Or worse?

A smile crept across her face however, once she got close enough to read the new signage. No longer Malcolm's Pawn and Loan, but rather Mr Gold - Pawnbroker & Antiquities Dealer.

Belle chuckled at the name. Mr Gold. It sounded so different, so unlike her Adam. The boy she left behind, now become a man. And as she continued toward the old Inn, Belle began to tremble with all the joy in her heart that it was surely far too quiet, far too late at night, to express out loud.

She was going to see him again.

  
  


*****

  
  


Belle tugged her coat more tightly around herself, her eyes fixed on the door of the shop across the street. The falling snowflakes, being violently yet silently whipped through the air by the cold winds, gave her the strange feeling that she'd be blown away herself the moment she stepped off the curb and toward the pawnshop.

A horse-drawn carriage passed by, and her nose wrinkled at the smell. She’d ridden in one a few times as a girl with her father, and the sudden desire to ride in one again took her– but papa was gone. Taking a deep breath, she stepped off the curb and crossed the street.

She peered through the shop’s window hoping to get a glimpse of him, and as her eyes focused on the small man hunched over the counter, her heart began to race. His brows were creased with focus as he scribbled into a notebook. His hair still swept his shoulders, and Belle couldn’t help feeling a silly bit of relief for it. She’d always found him handsome in his way.

A smile bloomed across her face. The sort that had eluded her all those years no matter where she sought it– be it in Paris, Amsterdam, Madrid, Edinburgh, Tokyo. Before she could stop herself, Belle was trying for the door despite the CLOSED sign hanging in its window.

It opened.

Adam lifted his head out from his work and looked up at her, his features wrought with confusion. But then the corner of his mouth tugged upwards into one of his lopsided smiles, and Belle felt weightless.

“...Belle?” he asked. “Belle–” this time scoffed, in disbelief. “Is that–?”

She nodded and hurried toward the counter with outstretched arms, moving as quickly as her feet would carry her.

He rounded the counter to meet her halfway. “Belle,” he said it again, and he threw his arms around her.

She clutched onto him tightly and breathed in the scent of him. It was different– an unfamiliar cologne filling her senses– but it was him and may as well have been the same blend of a scared boy’s unwashed clothes, mother’s cigarettes, and father’s whiskey, that she remembered.

“You came back.” he said, his voice muffled against her shoulder.

A sniffle escaped her, and she squeezed him even tighter. “Adam.”

His hand rubbed her back, instantly soothing away the restlessness that had settled into her bones over the years. He pulled away slowly then, looking her over, and she could see him noticing all the ways she’d changed and all the ways she’d stayed the same.

“I… never thought I’d see you again.” he finally said, only now his voice rang more of hurt than it did surprise.

“I was always going to come back.” Belle mumbled in her defense, taking a step back and wrapping her arms around herself guiltily.

The shop fell silent, and she studied the shelves of trinkets, the framed paintings, the things that all belonged to this man in front of her. This Mr Gold.

“How…” she trailed off, not sure of whether or not she should ask.

But he'd always had a way of reading her mind.

“He died.” he said, and the emptiness in his voice made Belle’s heart ache for him. How alone he was. How alone he always had been. “Choked on his own vomit six years ago.”

It was tempting to say, “I’m sorry,” but it didn’t seem appropriate, given everything she knew of that relationship. “I… see.” she managed.

“And my mother– she ah…” he cut himself off and swallowed hard, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck. “Overdosed.” he finished quietly.

The ache in Belle’s heart grew worse, sharpening into a fine point at the realization that his hopes and dreams had never come true.

“Adam…” she said, because she couldn’t think of anything else. He made that face though– the one that told her he didn’t want her pity– and so she shook her head and took another step back.

He cleared his throat. “The… the festival’s on, you know. And I never did get to ride in one of those carriages.” he chuckled, gesturing out the window with a nod. "Perhaps we could–?”

Belle nodded and smiled. “I’d like that.”

  
  
  


*****

  
  


Stories of all the places she'd been, things she'd seen, and people she'd met poured out of her as the carriage toted them down Main Street and through the town square. Each childhood landmark they passed cued another tale of “remember when,” and all the smiles, laughter, and warm feelings that came with it. There was Granny's diner, the ice cream parlor, the pharmacy, the mines beyond the town's outskirts.

Belle rest her head on his shoulder with a content sigh. She'd told Adam every story she had, and he'd listened eagerly to each and every one. Eventually his hand found hers, or perhaps it was hers that had found his– the details hardly seemed important because it felt so warm and so good and so right, as did the kiss that followed shortly thereafter.

The carriage dropped them off at the old house; His inheritance that he’d always been so loathe to call home, for it was haunted by so many ghosts. But the ghosts must have taken an evening carriage ride through the snow themselves– because Belle couldn't see nor hear any of them during the brief trip up the stairs, down the hall, and into the master bedroom.

Words became obsolete as everything fell into place then– replaced by caressing hands, brushing lips, and mounting, blissful gasps. Home wasn't Storybrooke, Belle decided as they finally nestled under the covers together. It was him.

Their bodies were dewy with sweat, and the moonlight coming through the window made their skin glow. Belle smiled inwardly; he used to joke that she'd grow tired of traveling the world one day and go to the Moon instead.

“Where will you go next?” Adam asked, breaking the silence. Reading her mind again.

“I don't know.” She swept the hair out of his face and smiled. “But you should come with me.”

“I can’t.” he said, and she couldn't help being hurt by the fact that he said it just as quickly and thoughtlessly as he had all those years ago.

Belle narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, then rest her head on his chest. “Why not? There’s nothing here for you, Adam.”

He wet his lips and sighed. “Yes, there is.”

She knit her brows together. “Like what? ...The shop?”

He hesitated. Closed his eyes, pressed his lips together, and let out another sigh.

“I have a son, Belle.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Round 2 Prompts:** insomnia; train station; unexpected beauty

Belle studied him with furrowed brows and parted lips. He'd dreamed of her often, but this was the look she had in his nightmares– like he was a stranger.

“Why didn't you say anything?” she finally asked.

Unable to look her in the eyes, Adam fixed his empty gaze on the sheets. It was a terrible habit, he knew. It was easy not to tell anyone anything when you spent your whole life feeling like nobody cared, and with Belle out of his life for so many years, it was easy to forget that she was always the one person who did.

“I… why should I bother you with it?” he said in his defense. “It's been so long and it's not as if you'll be sticking around, is it?” The words sounded so cold and accusatory when they came out, and he immediately wished he could take them back. But apologies were always so hard, so heavy on his tongue, such that he couldn't speak.

“You're right.” Belle sighed, turning away. “I left, and you have a whole life now. I'm not entitled to know anything about it.”

“Belle–”

“It's fine.” she dismissed. “Just… let me stay the night? Please? I missed you.”

He couldn't say no to her even if he wanted to. Not after all the nights she'd snuck him into her father's house so that he could avoid his. “...Aye.” he nodded. “Of course.”

She pulled the covers up to her chin and turned her back to him. Adam hesitated, then slowly draped an arm around her waist. She backed against him, and he allowed himself to bury his face in her hair, to breathe her in. Despite the heaviness in the air, it was still so nice to have her there. The contact, the warmth. Sharing those things with someone who knew him more intimately than anyone else on this Earth.

“Where is he?” Belle asked. “Is he–?”

“At his mother's.” Adam said, his voice muffled against her shoulder. “We… take turns with him.”

Belle exhaled slowly, but Adam could feel how tense her body remained.

“His name's Neal.” he continued. “Turns eight in March.”

He heard a sniff, the rustle of the sheets as she shifted a little, but nothing else.

“Y-you remember Milah? Milah Lithg–”

“Adam, you don't have to–” she interrupted, shaking her head. “It's really none of my–” she gave up with a huff, and he could finally feel her body relax.

Adam sat up a bit so he could look over her, beginning to comb his fingers through her hair. “I want to.” he whispered, gently tucking it behind her ears. “I… want you to know. About me. About Neal.”

Another sniff. “Okay.” she said, her voice cracking and weak.

“His mum and I… i-it never meant anything. I don't– we were both just lonely, I guess. But I don't regret it. I love him– love my boy– more than anything.”

He heard her take a slow, tremulous breath. Saw her give a little nod.

“He's a good kid, you know?” Adam said. “He… he reminds me of you, actually.” he chuckled softly. “Smart, kind, brave. Always wanting to do the right–”

“Adam, please don't.” she choked out.

He swallowed and withdrew his hand, lying back down beside her. “Alright.”

He couldn't sleep, and he was certain she couldn't either. Nonetheless, he kept his eyes closed, making no protest when hours later, she finally began wiggling out of his arms. She was leaving again, he knew. But goodbyes were so much easier left unsaid.

Maybe, when the sun rose and she was long gone, he could tell himself it was just another dream.

 ****  


*****

 ****  


“The next train to arrive at platform four is the 6:10 AM service to New York. Please have your ticket ready for inspection. Thank you.”

Belle sighed and looked down at her ticket. It had been foolish of her to come back. Naive to think that she would find everything just as she'd left it. The years had seemed like nothing from the other side of the world, when she could pretend that the only distance between them was the kind that was measured in miles. But listening to Adam talk about a son, a history with someone who wasn't her– all she could think was all the time she'd lost with him and would never get back.

It would be easier this way. If she just disappeared, off to the next corner of the world. Maybe if she went to enough new places, met enough new people, eventually she could forget.

But would it be better? the voice in her head nagged. She heaved a sigh and thought back to that day, eleven years ago. Or was it twelve?

“Come with me.” she said, squeezing his hand. “We can leave this place. Have adventures together. Meet strange people. ...Try funny foods that will probably have us running to the toilet for days.” she’d thrown in to tempt him, fighting back a giggle.

He looked at her with a strange smile on his face, his cheeks flushed. It wasn't an amused smile, but an uncomfortable one– yet in his eyes, she could see hope. He turned away from it though, shaking his head. “I can't.” he said, and let go.

It was so typical of him, and Belle could remember waiting at this very train station the following morning, her heart heavy with disappointment– both in her lack of a companion, and in him. Always taking the easy option. The safe one. The familiar one. How it frustrated her!

The PA chimed and Belle hushed her thoughts so she could listen.

“Due to the inclement weather, station surfaces may be slippery with rain or ice. Please travel with caution.”

She looked across the platform at the families and couples exchanging goodbyes. That had never been her. She’d always been the lone traveler– her nose buried in a book, a city map, a pocket guide to a foreign language.

Belle sighed.

Easy. Familiar. Safe.

Was that not what she was doing now?

 ****  


*****

 ****  


Adam remained in bed long after the sun came up, staring at the rumpled sheets next to him.

Tears stung his eyes, and he threw a hand over his face to stop them from falling. He held his breath as long as he could, not letting it go until he had no choice but to choke out a sob.

What right did he have to cry, though? He'd made his choice years ago, and now he had to live with it. His life was comfortable enough now, he supposed, and he had a son he loved so much, he could almost burst apart at the mere sight of.

But he missed the companionship.

Ached for it.

A sound carried from down the stairs then, pulling him out of his lament. A tapping? A knocking?

Belle. It had to be. He needed it to be.

He hurried out of bed, throwing his robe on only to slowly creep down the stairs out of fear that it was all a dream– that were he too loud, he'd wake from it and she'd slip through his fingers again. A silhouette stood beyond the stained glass of his front door, and his heart raced as he opened it.

She'd been staring at her feet, backpack in one hand, her head lifting up as the door creaked open. She had her lips pressed together, and her blue eyes wouldn't quite meet his. Adam just stared, mouth agape, hand trembling where it rested on the doorknob.

“Belle.” he swallowed. “I… thought you were leaving.”

She shifted on her feet and finally locked eyes with him. “I was going to. But…” she dropped her backpack and stepped toward him. “Something changed my mind.”

His eyes darted across her face. “I don't understand. There's a whole world out there for you, Belle.”

“There is.” She took his hand, cradling it in both of hers. “But I've seen enough of it to know that what I really want, is to be with you.”

His chin wobbled as he fought back tears. “I want that too.” he choked out.

She threw her arms around him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before buying her face in his neck and petting his hair. “I love you, Adam.”

Sniveling, he squeezed her tightly. “And I love you, Belle.”

How long he stood there and simply held onto her, he couldn't say. But eventually she began pulling back, a rueful smile on her face.

“I'd like to meet him.” she sniffled. “Your son. I um… I'm told we have a lot in common.” she laughed.

“I... pick him up from his mum's on Friday.” he chuckled.

“Until then– you could…you could tell me about him?”

His grin widened and he stepped aside, inviting her in. “I can talk your ear off about him over breakfast?”

Belle bit back a smile and nodded. “I'd like that.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Round 3 Prompts:** only a rose; closing up shop; tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really struggled with the word count on this round, so I figured I’d post the ~extended cut~ if you will, before I started trimming everything down. It's a healthy 250 words or so over the 1500 limit :x

Belle was no stranger to being served breakfast. It had become somewhat of a routine after spending her nights in one hostel after another. But this was so wonderfully different.

She slept a lot– late into the mornings, long after Adam had gotten up. Some nights she clung to him, others he clung to her. But every morning without fail, she came downstairs to a full breakfast with a warm cup of tea, a quick peck on the lips, and a hug that never seemed to last long enough.

This morning however, there was the addition of a single red rose on the table. Belle smiled and watched as Adam flit about, pulling ingredients and measuring cups from the cupboards. He was already dressed, his jacket and overcoat hanging on the hook in the hall, and a crumpled bag from the grocery store sat on the counter beside a fresh carton of eggs. Her observation was cut short however, when she gave herself away with a big yawn.

“Good morning.” Adam smiled over his shoulder. “Ten-thirty's early for you, no?” he teased, throwing a pointed glance at the clock.

He seemed more chipper this morning, and she was fairly certain the fact that he was picking his son up tomorrow had something to do with it.

“That's right. I'll be a functioning member of society again before you know it.” Belle chuckled, stepping over to him and pecking him on the cheek. "But then you won't have an excuse to close up the shop anymore.”

“Ah, yes. The people of Storybrooke have been without someplace to get cash for gold for six whole days.” he deadpanned. “What chaos.”

Belle narrowed her eyes at him.

He smiled back and wet his lips. “What?”

“You sell yourself short, is all,” she shrugged, taking his hand and studying his fingers. “You have plenty of nice things in there.”

“Perhaps. But I think I'll keep my day job as everyone’s tyrannical landlord.” he scoffed, and Belle didn't miss the bitterness in his voice.

Growing up, she'd heard many a cathartic rant about how he wanted nothing to do with his father, to be nothing like him. And now here he was, managing all of Malcolm's properties, running his shop, living in his house. She couldn't fault him for it, though. He had a child to support, and she'd always maintained that it wasn't _what_ his father did that mattered, but _how._ In that regard, he and Malcolm were nothing alike.

“You're no tyrant.” Belle told him.

He didn't respond, instead only watching the way she studied his hand in silence.

She hesitated and nibbled her lip. “The other day, at the shop–” she said. “I um... noticed the uh, tea set?”

A smile bloomed across his face then, and he nodded. “Aye.”

Belle sighed, leaning against the counter beside him. “God, I can remember that day so well…” she said. “We were so terrified of what your father would do when he found out… how old were we, then?  Eleven? Twelve? I can't believe it's still there.”

“Twelve. And that's because it's not for sale.” he winked.

“No…” she giggled and shook her head. “Come on.”

“Well, who would want to buy a tea set that's missing a cup, hm?” he said.

“What… whatever happened to that cup, anyway? You said you'd take care of it, and–”

“I took care of it.” he said, measuring out some flour into the mixing bowl.

“Adam, I mean it,” she pressed. “I… I was worried for you. What he might do to–”

“I hid it.” he said, finally looking back at her. “Drunk bastard never even noticed it was missing.”

Belle tilted her head, not sure if he was telling the truth or not. Malcolm had struck him for far milder offenses than breaking things in the shop, and she'd carried the guilt that Adam had very likely been punished for her own carelessness ever since.

Adam wet his lips and snapped a finger at her. “Wait right here.” he said, brushing past her and disappearing down the hall. He returned a moment later, holding up her chipped cup with a triumphant little grin on his face.

Belle huffed out a laugh and rolled her eyes. “You really kept it?” she asked. “After all these years?”

“Of course I did.” he said. He gently placed the cup in her hands and brushed the corner of his eye with his sleeve. “You always stood up for and protected me, Belle. I... wanted to remember the one time it was _me_ who was brave for _you.”_

Belle rubbed her thumb along the chipped rim for a moment. Regardless of the circumstances, she couldn’t help smiling at it.

“You were always brave.” she said, finally setting it down on the table. Her eyes crept back to the rose again, in its slender, fluted vase. “So um... what's that?” she asked.

Adam glanced over his shoulder and smiled at it. _“That,_ ” he said, taking her hands, “is for you.”

“Adam…” she smiled and shook her head. “You didn't have to...”

“What?” he furrowed his brows and gave a crooked little smirk that made her heartbeat thicken. “It's only a rose.”

Belle nibbled her lip and stepped closer, draping her arms over his shoulders. “Well, it’s a very lovely rose. So thank you.”

He settled his hands on her waist and smiled back down at her. “You're welcome.”

It was nice, being like this. Tactile, affectionate. The way they could have been over a decade ago. As she took in his features– eyes, lips, cheekbones, nose, and all– she could remember the first time she began to notice him and the man he was becoming. How the kids at school would sing, _Belle and Adam sitting in a tree – _and how one day, she could only manage a blush in response instead of a denial.

She hesitated for a moment,, then reached up on her toes to kiss him again– slowly this time, letting her hands wrap behind his neck and her fingers slip through his hair. His hands slid around her waist to pull her close as they deepened the kiss, and nothing else in life had ever felt like this.

His hand wandered downwards to her hip, tucking itself beneath the hem of her shirt, and the sensation of his touch could have burned her. They hadn't made love since that first night. Instead they'd agreed to take things a little slowly. Particularly, to keep their distance around Neal so as not to confuse or overwhelm him. But they wouldn't have to worry about that until tomorrow, and _oh,_ how she wanted him again. Surely, that's what the rose was for, wasn't it? A sign that he wanted her again too?

She tugged on his lip with her teeth and a deep sound came from him as he gripped her more tightly. Heat flared in her belly, but instead of spurring her on, she had a sudden change of heart. They would have time for this, later.

“I'm sorry.” she shook her head. “I– we shouldn't.”

Adam swallowed and cleared his throat. “No. You're right. I'll just ah… finish up breakfast.” he coughed. “Please. Sit down.”

Belle took her seat at the table again, her focus darting back and forth between the cup and the rose. There was the sound of Adam cracking an egg, and it pulled her attention away, over to the fridge. The door was covered with endearingly disproportionate drawings of the house, the shop, father and son holding hands while a bright yellow sun hung overhead. Another of them with big smiles on their faces that read, _a dad is somebody who makes you fell better when your sad._

Belle smiled. He was nothing like his father. Not even close.

Soon Adam was sliding food onto her plate, and she startled.

“Are you sure it's alright?” Belle asked.

He followed her gaze to the drawings on the fridge with a smile. “...I'm sure he'll be ecstatic to make a new friend.”

“I know, but–”

“If he seems uncomfortable... I've got an apartment on Third we can get you set up in.” he said, sitting across from her. “But… Belle, I-I'd really like to have you here.”

“I don't know…”

The smile on his face crumbled away. “What?”

She looked out the window and into the cold, at the falling snow. “I just wouldn't want to intrude, or... be a kept woman, is all.” she explained, her gaze landing on the rose again.

“You wouldn't be.” He sounded so _hurt,_ and his eyes focused on her plate instead of her face. “It could be… _home_ , here. Just–” He took a deep breath to get a handle on his emotions, but his chin trembled with incoming tears nonetheless. “Please. I– I've missed you.”

“Hey.” Belle reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “I’m not going to leave you, Adam. Not again.”

He nodded and sniffled, still looking down at the table.

“But if we’re going to try to take things slow, then maybe… maybe we really ought to _take things slow.”_

Adam rubbed a hand over his mouth and shook his head. “It's just… _twelve years,_ Belle.” he choked out. “Twelve years, and I've loved you for all of them. Every single one.”

“I know.” she whispered.

The words, _me too,_ reached the tip of her tongue, but they seemed selfish. After all, she'd had an entire world to distract herself from the Adam-shaped hole in her heart. He only had reminders.

“...I know.” she said again, brushing her thumb over his knuckles.

“You're here now, a-and I don't want to waste another moment.” he said. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” she told him. “I came back– for _you.”_

He looked up and nodded, a fragile little smile on his face. “You did.” he whispered shakily.

“And listen–” she pulled his hand closer and put on a smile. “Tomorrow you're going to bring your boy home, and I can't wait to meet him, and to see what a great papa you are.”

Adam blushed and looked away, trying to hide the precious smile that was rounding his cheeks at the mention of his son. “H-he's a good boy, Belle.”

“Of course he is.” she said, rubbing his arm. “His papa's a good man.”

Adam took a deep breath and nodded. “Tomorrow. He’s going to adore you, Belle. I know it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be posting the next two parts of this story a few days apart, and I DO plan on wrapping it up with another chapter or two. :)


End file.
